Playing by Heart (14 page)

“I believe she has things figured out. The season starts a week from Friday. I do hope y'all will come to some of the games.”

Jewel gave Lula a long look. “I imagine we will since my sister is involved. And of course you'll come to some games, too, Bo. Won't you?”

He dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “If I can get away, certainly. Although if the rumors are true, we'll ship out soon. I don't know if I'll be able to wrangle much more leave.”

Jewel's face turned pale. “You'll go to fight?”

He nodded, lifted another bite of beef, then set it back on his plate again, something unspoken passing between him and the widow of his longtime friend.

Lula wiped Trula's mouth and then rose, stacking three empty plates to take with her into the kitchen. She reached for my plate just as I lifted it. Her soft, warm hand brushed mine on the rim of the dish. I wanted to grab hold, to not let go. But of course I didn't. She blushed deeply and scurried to the kitchen.

Why was she so timid around me? What treasures lived locked behind those dark eyes?

I pushed back my chair. “I'll help clean up.”

“Absolutely not!” Jewel sprang to her feet and steered both Bo and me toward the front of the house. “Lula, please join us. The dishes can wait.”

A few moments later, Lula walked stiffly into the room, crossed to the fireplace, and stabbed at the wood with an iron poker. The ashy log splintered, sending a nest of sparks flying up the chimney. Then she wobbled to the stool at the piano and sat facing the keyboard, hands clasped in her lap, gaze fixed on her hands.

JC leaned on the edge of the instrument while Bo complimented the meal and the company. I pulled out my handkerchief and wiped my forehead. I needed to move away from the heat, but was it the fire or Lula?

I ran my hand over the top of the walnut cabinet that housed a phonograph, then let my fingers graze the keys of the piano. A sheet of music propped on the ledge above the ivories caught my eye: “All the World Will Be Jealous of Me.”

“That's one of my favorite songs.” I nodded toward the music. “Will you play it?”

She popped to her feet. “I really don't think that's appropriate for today.”

I tipped my head. “Something else, then?”

“I . . . I don't—” She couldn't seem to catch her breath. “I'd better finish the dishes.” She spun to leave the room, but Jewel caught her by the arm. “Mr. Vaughn, perhaps I will take you up on your offer to help your mother and I tidy the kitchen. JC, please help the children get ready for bed.”

“Mama!” he whined. I silenced him with raised eyebrows. If he wanted to be the man of the family, he needed to help his mother when she asked him to.

“Yes, ma'am.” He trudged off, his little brother in tow, both sisters following along behind.

“Bo and Lula can entertain each other, can't you?” Jewel grinned at the two of them. Bo returned the gesture, but Lula looked as if Jewel had asked her to climb on the back of wild bronco.

I knew I ought to follow Jewel to the kitchen, but I couldn't leave Lula alone with Bo. I slipped off my jacket and laid it over the back of a chair. Then I unbuttoned my cuffs and rolled my shirtsleeves toward my elbows. “Why don't you entertain Mr. Nelson, Jewel? I have great expertise in the area of dishwashing, so if Miss Bowman will lead the way . . .”

Lula brightened, and I took hope that my company was apparently not as odious to her as Bo's.

“Come, dear. I'll help, too.” Ma wrapped an arm around Lula's waist and led her to the kitchen.

I took a step to follow, then remembered JC and knew what I had to do. I cleared my throat. Jewel and Bo looked at me in surprise, as if they'd forgotten anyone else was in the room. I sat on the piano stool. “While we've got a moment, I've been hoping to talk to the two of you about JC. . . .”

L
ULA

Thoughts of our first basketball game of the season had me flustered. Or at least I told myself it was the basketball game. The truth was I couldn't think of New Year's Eve, of Chet at our dining room table, without feeling . . . undone. And the memory of him rescuing me from Jewel's matchmaking? It still left me breathless.

Only he hadn't followed me into the kitchen. He'd stayed with Jewel and Bo while his mother had helped me clean up. Did that mean he hadn't meant to rescue me at all?

Nannie poked her head into my classroom at noon. “You know the game's at the town hall, right?”

My mouth dropped open. The town hall? Not the gymnasium here at school? “Are you certain?”

She nodded, eyes dancing with excitement. “Coach Vaughn arranged it. We're to use the admission money to buy war bonds. The town hall has room for more people.” She disappeared again before I could form a reply.

After my final class of the day, I ducked my head and trudged
through the cold January evening to the town hall, the air fragrant with the scent of coming snow and billowing smoke from those keeping warm indoors. My heart bounced against my ribs like a basketball under Blaze's hand. Steady but firm and quick.

Even in the unlit hall I could make out the two sets of spectator stands placed along one side of the court taped off on the floor. Two poles with baskets hugged the walls at opposite ends of the rectangle.

The door opened behind me, letting in a wave of cool air, but it shut just as quickly. I turned, expecting my girls but finding Chet. The building suddenly felt too warm. I removed my coat and draped it over the bench where I would sit with my players.

Chet's hand cupped my elbow, and electricity jolted through my body, intensifying the steady thump in my chest.

“You look like you're going to be sick.”

I blew out a long breath, wishing my nerves wouldn't show so clearly on my face.

He leaned closer. The scent of winter and gasoline mingled on his overcoat. “It's just a game. You'll do fine.”

Eight chattering girls pushed inside and retreated to the far end of the large room before peeling off coats and scarves to reveal bloomers and blouses. Though Chet had put a bit of distance between us now, the girls giggled and whispered as they glanced in our direction.

Chet clicked the buttons on the wall, and electricity burst into the bulbs overhead, flooding the court with light. I shielded my eyes for a brief moment, then blinked the room into focus. My team clamored around me, adjusting the bows on the wide white bands that held back any stray hairs that might want to drift from their pins during play.

“This is it, Miss Bowman. Aren't you excited?”

“Do you think we can win?”

“Do I look good enough?”

I laughed at the last one. Foxy primped and preened as if she were getting ready for a house dance instead of an athletic contest.

When the other team arrived, I shook hands with their coach, a man of enormous height and few words. Chet's team, clad in shorts and shirts, climbed into the stands, stretched long legs in front of them, and leaned their backs against the row above to watch our game. Townspeople filled in around them. In the crowd I picked out a woman I'd gone to high school with, a man that had been friends with my brother Ben, Pastor and Mrs. Reynolds, and Mama's friend Annie Chiles. As a wave of nerves washed over me, I turned to the wall and wrapped my arms around my middle. Too many familiar faces—people who remembered me as Fruity Lu—for my comfort.

“All set, Miss Bowman?” Principal Gray's jovial voice didn't help my queasy stomach. He was the one who'd landed me in this mess in the first place.

Determinedly, I stood as tall as I could manage. “I'm ready.”

Chet caught my eye. He inclined his head toward the girls from the opposing team warming up and then at my group clustered near the bench.

“Nannie, get the girls ready.” I smiled thanks in Chet's direction. “We've got a game to play.”

“We don't mind, Miss Bowman. Really we don't.” Nannie walked beside me to the tiered benches at the side of the court after our game. Our loss. I cringed. We'd only scored four points. The other team scored twenty.

Blaze led the boys in a series of shooting drills as they prepared to begin their contest. Nannie had filled me in on Chet's deal with the school board. It was good of him to be so civic-minded and patriotic, but I found my stomach roiling with nerves on his behalf. Even if I was still new to the world of basketball, I knew that winning every single game was a monumental challenge.

Nannie wiggled her fingers at Blaze, but he didn't notice. She huffed, then turned her attention back to me. “It's not like we were any good even when Coach Giles was here.”

I tried to accept that as a compliment, but I couldn't ignore that the crowd had snickered at my girls' attempts to pass the ball. Defend the ball. Shoot the ball. Anything at all, really. The other team had noticeably overpowered us the entire game.

My gaze drifted to Chet. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his pants, the matching brown jacket bunched up about his wrists. His attention never left the boys warming up on the court. I had more questions for him now that I'd seen an actual game played. My elbow tingled where he'd touched me earlier. Why did he have to keep chipping away at my resolve to keep men out of my life?

Nannie climbed higher in the stands to sit with her teammates. I remained on the bottom tier, alone, elbows on my knees, chin in my hands. The boys moved from one end of the court to the other. Dribble, dribble. Pass, pass, pass. Shoot. The other team caught the ball before it bounced out of bounds and took it to the opposite end of the court.

I took note of what resulted in a team scoring points and what didn't, hoping to apply some of it to the girls' game. But it wasn't easy. The boys ran the length of the court. The girls stayed within their allotted lines, two girls in each of the three zones, each playing either offense or defense, not both.

By the halfway mark of the game, my back and neck ached. I stretched my spine and dug my fingers into the soft places near the bone. Conversations grew louder in the absence of play, drifting to my ears.

“They look better than last year, that's for certain.”

“We'll see when they have to play Edgewise at the end of the season.”

“Missed the girls' game. Heard it was good.”

I winced. Good?

“Good as in good for a laugh. Wonder if they'll score more than ten points the entire season!” A deep chortle, vaguely familiar.

My fists tightened. I almost turned my head to find the speaker.

Then his companion answered. “Especially since Fruity Lu's the coach!” A slap resounded. Hand to thigh? Hand to bench?

Didn't matter. It felt like a hand to my face.

My jaw clenched as I found the edge of my seat and gripped it as if to save myself from drowning. I shouldn't have come back to this town. I shouldn't have stayed. I shouldn't have agreed to teach music or coach basketball or play the piano at church. Not when my past reputation lurked constantly in the shadows.

I stared across the town hall, willing the mortification to recede before it spawned tears. If only I hadn't found my attention planted on the last person I wanted to witness my distress.

Chet.

He stared right back at me, eyebrows bunching as if in consternation. I needed to leave. To be alone. But before I could reach my feet, a soft hand settled on my shoulder.

“Do you want to come sit with us?” Bitsy smiled at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. I followed her to the other side
of the bleachers, away, I hoped, from those who refused to let Fruity Lu be forgotten.

Our boys won by ten points. I waited until the crowd around Chet thinned before approaching him. His grin widened when he saw me. I ducked my head, warmth crawling up my neck. “Congratulations. Your boys played well. At least, I think they did.”

He chuckled. “They did indeed. I'm glad you noticed.”

My head shot up, but his expression seemed amiable enough. In spite of my determination to limit my time in this man's company, I needed his help. I let my gaze wander over his shoulder, away from his dark eyes and oval face, the strong nose and masculine mouth. Things I'd long ago schooled myself not to notice about a man.

“I need a favor.”

“All right . . .”

“I need you to teach me more about the strategy of the game. I don't want the girls to spend an entire season in disgrace due to my ignorance.”

No smugness appeared in the set of his mouth or around his eyes at my confession. Instead, he seemed pleased. “I have a few things to finish up here, but if you'll wait, I'll drive you home and we can talk.”

I stepped backward, flustered at the idea of riding alone with him. I could have explained our one walk together to anyone who'd questioned my motives. But climbing into his car was more . . . deliberate. I didn't want to violate my contract with Principal Gray. But I didn't want to refuse Chet, either. I wanted to learn strategy. And no matter how hard I
tried to convince myself otherwise, I wasn't averse to spending time with Chet.

After stuttering an acceptance of his kind invitation, I retreated to a corner until the crowd dwindled. Even Principal Gray left with his family. Relief drenched me like a spring thunderstorm.

“Ready?” Chet pushed open the door and stepped aside to let me pass.

I murmured thanks. As we walked to his automobile, I said, “You've done wonders with JC. Thank you for that.”

He shrugged. “I haven't done much. Listened, mostly.”

“Jewel very much appreciated your telling her how he feels.” The conversation that had kept him from joining me in the kitchen on New Year's Eve. How could I fault him for helping JC?

He kicked at a pebble on the ground. “I know how much it helps to have a friend who understands what you are going through.”

I glanced sideways at him, feeling the layers of the statement. He understood JC. But he seemed to understand me, too. And I, him. Both of us walked a path the people around us did not understand.

“Yes, that makes a world of difference.”

We fell silent, our steps in opposition to one another. His long and solid, mine clipped and light.

“How's Blaze doing in math class? Nannie's always worried about him.”

“He's managing better now, thanks to you both. I believe he'll graduate if he stays on course.”

A blast of chill wind shook my hat and rustled my hair. I pulled the collar of my coat around my bare neck and shivered.

Chet pulled a long draw of air through his nose and let it out through his mouth as we reached his motorcar. “I love autumn and winter. The cold, dark evenings in contrast to the warm, lit gym. Or town hall, as the case may be.”

I almost laughed. Perhaps we didn't understand each other as much as I'd imagined.

He laid a woolen blanket over my knees before settling behind the steering wheel and starting the engine. “So what great basketball wisdom may I impart to you this evening?”

My gaze swept over the street, looking for someone who would recognize me and alert Principal Gray. Best get the questions asked and be done with it, in spite of my wish to take a long drive with him in the Ford.

“You watched the girls play. What am I missing in coaching them? Obviously they had little understanding of how to take the ball from the other team or keep it in our possession.”

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he started whistling, the tune barely audible above the chug of the motor but familiar in an odd kind of way.

When words finally left his mouth, they came slowly, like uncertain steps. “I've watched you practice, and while you've taught them the technical skills, they seem to lack a passion for the game. The drive to succeed.”

My chest puffed up with defenses but deflated just as quickly. If I acknowledged the truth, I'd noticed the same thing with my music students' performance at Christmas. They had hit the right notes, but the songs had not had heart. I'd thought my lack of fervor for either music or basketball wouldn't make a difference for my students as long as I taught them the basics. But I suddenly feared it had.